


Safe in the Hands of Rube Pinkberg

by Etnoe



Category: Pinky and the Brain
Genre: Future Fic, Gen, Humour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:54:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23241313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etnoe/pseuds/Etnoe
Summary: Is taking over the world, that long-sought and distant dream suddenly become a reality, really worth it?Absolutely, and Brain had no doubts whatsoever about that. But some emotional adjustments are necessary.
Relationships: Brain & Pinky (Animaniacs)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23
Collections: All The Nice Things Flash Exchange 2020





	Safe in the Hands of Rube Pinkberg

**Author's Note:**

  * For [asuralucier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asuralucier/gifts).



> Warning for angst and assassins, but all in the silliest way possible. In fact, they're probably just kidnappers. And others are overeager to get selfies with Brain.

Sirens died down to their last echoes. The sides of the crater crumbled, sending a shiver of motion through the crowd of bystanders. Smoke cleared, and the medical and safety teams took the matter over. The clearest sign of the showdown was the pink feathers that were kicked back up into the air by their efficient movements.

"A parade of flamingos in disguise _would_ ," Pinky said with a shake of his head, and dismounted the inflatable orca steed he'd liberated from the parade.

He jumped from its turret to the net that bound it to his rapid-deployment CCM (Cotton Candy Maze) that marked the main west entrance to Brain's mansion. The net was supposed to have captured him and allowed the kidnappers to storm the place. Why would the coordinators of the attack have overlooked the obvious fact of the CCM being the exact shade of pink of your average flamingo's favourite type of shrimp? All it had required was a stationery set, a violin, and silly putty that Pinky's security team had swiftly deployed at his hand signals, and they'd made decoy shrimp that distracted the parading birds before they'd got halfway through the maze.

Now the net was a handy way to tug his orca balloon along. That was lovely!

A minute later he sacrificed it to set off the mousetraps that the attackers had managed to set in the maze.

The air from the deflating orca dispersed the laughing gas they'd also planted, which was upsetting. He could quite do with forcibly induced cackling today.

Pinky wandered unseeing through the mansion (and rode, and flew on various devices - it was designed so that humans would find it accessible too). He supposed that technically he did have a report to deliver. For what it was worth, he could enjoy the plush feeling of carpeting beneath his feet, the smooth flight of the model plane, the slide down the clear plastic tubing and the splash of the heated pool.

He did think that Brain could stand to have it more heated. Room temperature water could be nice, but today struck him as a day for a lounge in relaxing, piping hot water.

It was supposed to be a meditation pool, though, and Brain wanted to avoid it having too much of an effect on the temperature of his sanctuary. His stupid, stupid sanctuary, Pinky thought, and crossed his arms underneath the fluffy towels he'd piled over himself for a bit of comfort.

He had to clear his throat for Brain to hear him from the middle of his Zen garden. Despite everything, Pinky was sort of glad to see that Brain had raked only a few equations into the sand. He'd thought he'd have to sneak armfuls more pebbles and pellets in there so there wouldn't be enough space for anything but relaxing, directionless scrapes of the rake.

Actually - that was annoying, Pinky decided.

"Isn't there work you ought to be doing, mister ruler of the world?"

Brain smiled. He stood with a stretch before he opened his eyes. All at ease.

"I took a morning off. There has to be time to enjoy the ruling, after all!" He hopped his way from pebble to pebble until he made it over the side of the tray, light his feet as he always was lately. "Pinky, how are you today?"

"Awful!"

Immediately Brain stamped a foot. Hatches in the floor slid open to bring forth a bed, a couch, and water dispensers. "Was there another incursion? Come, sit down, take a drink. You're not hurt, are you?"

They took a few steps towards the recovery pad, but Pinky knew that his peace of mind wouldn't come from that. He looked away from Brain's worry and instead around the office to the grand, annotated maps on the walls, the thick books held open on podia that made them easier to use for mousy paws, the computers that would show all sort of plans and newsfeeds if they were on.

"Another incursion, oh, boo hoo. Who cares? You know you're all right with all these humans and dogs and lions and tigers and rhinos on your security team--"

"Not bears?"

"Of course not bears! They're for the fishing team! You don't have to play dumb with me, Brain. I am perfectly aware you've--you've fobbed me off into a position where I could pretend I'm contributing. I'm not the genius mouse implementing all these environmentally friendly power sources, and cat-belling laws, and food banks. Now that you don't need help anymore, I can tell I'm in a makeshift, make-work--"

"Pinky! Of course it's a real job. You're invaluable to this whole process too! I can only be so calm on a morning like this because I trust you implicitly."

Brain looked down then, surprised to find himself in the moment after a motion - he hadn't exactly meant to clasp Pinky's paws in his own. When he looked up he hoped to see in his constant companion the cheerful warmth he'd known so long, perhaps tearful emotion of the kind welling in his breast ... nope.

Still sulking.

" _And_ because you've taken over the world," Pinky said, snippy. He pulled one paw free to peer at his cuticles and left the other to hang noncommittally in Brain's, as if there was barely anything to take note of, and certainly not a heartfelt gesture. 

"Well, I--naturally, it is a, a bright spot in my current life, as the culmination of a dream ... a dream we've shared...?"

"Ooh, yes, quite the perk, I'm sure. For you."

A knock on the door interrupted them. After Brain acknowledged the person on the other side, one of his aides and a chef, pushing a laden lunch trolley, came in.

"Mr Chiefjesty! O Prime Minister of the Pack..." Jameson did get a kick out of doing that. Still, she was among the best of the aides, and honestly, Brain could live with the acknowledgement of having all kinds of titles attributed to him. It wasn't like it was the silliest thing that had ever been said to him.

"Well! I can see you need me even less than usual," Pinky said.

"Mr Pinky, you're here too! I must congratulate you on this morning's work."

"There's more than enough for two!" Chef Sydow said. "After all, dozens of countries are still being radio-controlled out of creating their signature dishes until they turn in their due number of pigeons to power the turbine. We have to keep taunting them for a while yet."

"No, no." Pinky wrapped his towels tighter around himself, the picture of a diva in ermine. "I can tell that important information is about to be imparted. I can't impose!"

"Of course you can, sir," Jameson said warmly. "I know Sir Capitan shares--"

"Only as much with me as a poor, silly fool could handle! Hahaha." It was utterly unconvincing laughter. The room grew awkward, so of course Pinky added a, "NAAAAAAARF."

In an oddly businesslike way, considering. He'd turned away to vent it, and now stayed facing the window with an assessing, if still mopey, air. Brain slowly turned to look too, going on tiptoes.

Ripples tore through shrubs outside and sent pieces of foliage into the air, and a few disoriented birds; he recognised these patterns--an auditory weapon. It must have been one that Pinky's outcry had matched and neutralised. Why, no, there was something to study here, because it had been more than neutralised: he'd turned the weapon, now marked by a thin pillar of smoke in the gardens, against itself!

"I do wish that bean paste from in the little buns agreed with me better," Pinky said.

By accident. Sure, why not.

"It ... it can take the body a while to grow accustomed to diverse cuisines," Chef Sydow said. His shaky awe became gratefulness. "Ah, Mr Pinky! You've done it again."

Perimeter security swiftly brought the attacker to the in-house cells as a temporary detainment measure. 

"That was even more ridiculous than usual!" the attacker wept. "No matter how we try and try - weapons or laws, or utter lunatic schemes, we'll never get rid of them ... humanity will always have to bow to this, this chaos theory kookiness! This iron fist of power! It's just SO GOOFY..."

Brain took Pinky's paw again. They shared one human-sized robot suit - an appropriate display of power in circumstances like these, rather than a disguise as it had been in earlier times. The shield of Pinky's fluffy towels were gone, and now he awkwardly nudged a control with a toe, so as to scuff a robot foot on the floor. As much as one could on such carpets - they really were lusciously plush.

"If you won't listen to it from a long-time companion, will you listen to it from an enemy? And from our employees, you know - Jameson and Sydow had every reason to be grateful too."

"I s'pose an enemy doesn't have much reason to lie... And that kind of snotty weeping's very hard to fake, I know from our movie nights..."

"Maybe that's what we can do tomorrow night?" Brain suggested. "Or make use of the skating rink. It has been a while since the last time we had a night to ourselves."

"Oh! Yes, I think so, Brain. I think so indeed."


End file.
